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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24592084">La Sartoria</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnaCannucciaCortaCorta/pseuds/UnaCannucciaCortaCorta'>UnaCannucciaCortaCorta</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:41:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,307</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24592084</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnaCannucciaCortaCorta/pseuds/UnaCannucciaCortaCorta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fabrizio just wants his suit to get tailored and instead of his beloved tailoress there is a new guy with a curly head sitting behind the sewing machine.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ermal Meta/Fabrizio Moro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Il nuovo sarto del quartiere</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I hope you enjoy the story. At the moment it's just an idea and a way to try out writing more than a one-shot about them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the doorbell rang Fabrizio remembered previous decades. Some he only knew of because of his mother telling him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Times when men and women brought their suits to be trimmed, when men were wearing hats and women golden hatpins as they were doing a stroll on Sunday afternoon in their fancy dresses.</p>
<p>Times when men smoked and played cards on the street, argued about football matches and women took care of their children screaming their names across courts and alleys to get them home for dinner.</p>
<p>Times when this neighbourhood was as wicked as now but young teenagers at least didn’t do drugs publically in parks and most of them still dreamt of a better future.</p>
<p>Times when housemaids brought their upper-class bosses wives‘ clothes to Signora Barletti because she was known to sew seams that lasted a lifetime, indestructible like her will to keep this business running after the war.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fabrizio knew Signora Barletti since he was a kid. His grandma often took him with her and as she waited to get her clothes pegged the little boy stood amazed by the shiny sewing machine, its heavy metal treadle and all the bobbins and fabrics with colourful patterns laid around.</p>
<p>But what always drew his attention towards it was the button pan made of glass: Signora Barletti collected all kind of lonely single buttons that people lost because maybe one day they came in handy.</p>
<p>Sometimes when young Fabrizio found a button at school or at the playground he kept it in his pocket and later brought it to the tailor. She always gave him a lollipop in exchange, later on some Lire, and he was rather proud that he added some precious buttons to her collection.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But these times were gone. Life went on. The neighbourhood changed.</p>
<p>All the little shops closed one by one. Some moved closer to the city centre and made it into well-known department stores, others enjoyed their last days without the stress and chaos of running a business.</p>
<p>New buildings were built and once new and shiny became dilapidated quite fast. And in all this rubbish, between the graffiti, the cheap and obscure cell phone shops, snack bars and tabacchi Signora Barletti’s tailor’s shop resisted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In his head Fabrizio was already answering Signora Barletti’s recurring question about the wellbeing of his parents and whether his brother was still a cub. He would have to repeat his answer at least twice because the old lady was almost deaf. She might not hear very well but her eyes were still as sharp as an eagle. Her hands were full of callus but nonetheless her fingers softly recognized any kind of fabric.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But as he prepared to say ‘Ciao Signora’ his eyes fell on fast working hands. These hands weren’t old. They were young and unconsumed.</p>
<p>Instead of the old tailor, there was a young man working concentrated on a piece of fabric.</p>
<p>Although sitting he seemed very tall and skinny. He had long fingers that worked precisely and deftly while almost caressing the fabric. Fabrizio couldn’t see his face because he didn’t look up as the bell rang.</p>
<p>He could spot that a needle was put between his lips and the rest was covered with dark brown curly hair. As one strand of hair probably made it impossible for the young tailor to see he put it behind his ear and therefore Fabrizio got a glimpse of his face.</p>
<p>He had quite a prominent nose, almost like an ancient Roman god, and dark brown eyes almost black. The dimmed lights of the sewing machine reflected in them and made them look like a dark sky with some big shiny stars.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Still he didn‘t make out that a new customer had entered the store, so Fabrizio cleared his throat. A surprised and mildly shocked young man looked at him.</p>
<p>“Oh“ escaped his lips. “Ciao.“</p>
<p>Fabrizio waved shyly with his hand.</p>
<p>“Ciao! I … I am so sorry. When I work I sometimes get lost. I … how … how can I help you?“</p>
<p>The young man now looked directly at Fabrizio and straightened his back after he had put away the fabric he had been working on.</p>
<p>“Ehm .. I was looking for Signora Barletti, but ...“</p>
<p>“She is in the hospital. She broke her femoral bone.“</p>
<p>“Oh!“</p>
<p>Fabrizio was quite shocked to hear that. His own grandpa had to spend weeks in the hospital due to a similar injury. It was not nothing at her age.</p>
<p>“But she is fine!“ the young man added fast.</p>
<p>“I visited her yesterday … and I promised her to take care of the shop. So here I am, the new tailor.“</p>
<p>“I‘m glad to hear she‘s fine. Do you know when she will be back?“</p>
<p>Fabrizio suddenly saw disappointment in his opponents face. He probably wasn‘t the first to ask him this.</p>
<p>“I ..“</p>
<p>“No, no, it‘s fine. She‘s a master with her needle. I get why people want her. But sadly I don‘t know when she will be fit enough to leave the hospital … or use the sewing machine again. But I promise you, I will give everything! So if I may help you?“</p>
<p>His voice sounded sad and yet with a trace of hope.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes you can. At least I hope so…?“</p>
<p>“Ermal. I‘m Ermal.“</p>
<p>Fabrizio smiled at him and rummaged around in his backpack.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah here it is.“</p>
<p>He pulled out a quite festive jacket in black that had seen better times: It was all creased. Ermal looked horrified.</p>
<p>“So“ continued Fabrizio “This has to be shortened. The sleeves are too long.“</p>
<p>“The sleeves are not the only problem“ Ermal whispered. Yet Fabrizio heard his words.</p>
<p>“Why? What‘s wrong?“</p>
<p>“It‘s … it‘s a very fine and expensive fabric. And now it‘s … well let‘s say it wasn‘t threatened in the best of ways and we cannot just iron it. Even steam could do some damage.“</p>
<p>“So you say I destroyed it by putting it in my backpack?“</p>
<p>“Pretty much. Yes, I‘m sorry. Jackets like these need suit bags.“</p>
<p>“Oh.“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fabrizio was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. The jacket was part of a suit he bought for his sister‘s wedding in two month and for once he didn‘t let the price dictate his choice of clothes.</p>
<p>He liked the suit: It was quite comfy for a tailored piece like this and in a very deep black. He had to take it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shit. I‘m so stupid. You know usually I don‘t wear suits.“</p>
<p>“You don‘t say?“ escaped from Ermal‘s lips.</p>
<p>“Is it that obvious?“</p>
<p>“Well, you wear a pair of jeans that is ripped and I am convinced not all of these rips were made on purpose? You wear boots but didn‘t bother to tie them, so your shoelaces are frayed. You wear a washy Metallica shirt and your jacket … well your jacket is fine. It‘s real leather.“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fabrizio chuckled. This man had no real filter.</p>
<p>“I‘m sorry, if I was to direct. It‘s not my strength ...“</p>
<p>“Noo, noo. You ARE indeed direct but you are not wrong. Clothes are not my strength.“</p>
<p>Ermal replied with a short smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, what can we do about this ...“</p>
<p>“Mess?“ Ermal finished. “You can put it on and we will see.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>While Fabrizio was taking off his leather jacket Ermal sneaked a peek of the two heavily tattooed arms of his client.</p>
<p>There seemed to be a sun on one hand, he could read ‚pace‘, some roses, a clock, some writing. Even on his neck he wore a tattoo.</p>
<p>His appearance didn‘t fit to the nice timbre of his voice and the way he shyly smiled. Ermal was confused: This man looked like trouble but seemed to be rather overstrained with simply handling a nice jacket.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once wearing the jacket Fabrizio tried to straighten the sleeves. Ermal had to chuckle.</p>
<p>“I‘m not sure that that is gonna help.“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He came around the counter and softly grabbed the jacket‘s collar. His face was quite close to Fabrizio‘s because they were almost the same height.</p>
<p>As direct as Ermal‘s character seemed he now avoided to look the older man into his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unlike Fabrizio who quite frankly observed Ermal. He didn‘t know how old he was but he seemed rather young, his skin was smooth and he was neatly shaved.</p>
<p>There was one thing that didn‘t match his fine and delicate contours: The piercing over his eyebrow. Two little steal balls peeking through.</p>
<p>His nose was a bit crooked as was his mouth but nonetheless he would describe the man in front of him attractive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yes, Ermal was beautiful and Fabrizio already suspected that he would fall for him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Non osate toccarlo!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fabrizio is ready to get his new jacket.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was putting out his cigarette as his friend slightly hit his arm. “He’s closing.” The man looked up. Yes, the tailor slowly started to dim the lights in the back of the store.</p><p>The watch said 6 pm. In half an hour the shop would close.</p><p>It was a spontaneous thing he and Alberto agreed on. Word on the street was that a young tailor, and yes he was young and apparently strong like a little sheep he thought, had taken over Signora Barletti’s store because she was hospitalized. He would never rob her. He knew her since he was a kid. But this man, he was a stranger and today’s earnings were his and not directly Signora Barletti’s.</p><p>Alberto had told him how Signora Barletti was strict with rules and he was sure the stranger would follow them. So Thursday was the day before she went to the bank. Tonight the cash register would be filled with all week’s income.</p><p>He checked if he brought his knife.</p><p>He did.</p><p>The tailor didn’t look like someone who would defend himself eagerly.</p><p>An easy thing.</p><p>A fast thing.</p><p>30 minutes left.</p><p>_________</p><p> </p><p>Fabrizio knew he was kind of late. He was not good at being on time. Somehow he always lost some minutes here, some minutes there.</p><p>He couldn’t leave the house without a last fresh splash of his perfume, he couldn’t pass Signor Caruzzi’s tabbacchi without a short talk, a ‘come va?’ and a fast cigarette with Lucio, the bus driver who always made his break around the corner and who he went to school with.</p><p>The street was calm and almost empty. Vis-à-vis the shop he saw two man standing. They didn’t talk but seemed to observe something. The shop.</p><p>Fabrizio was convinced since he had recognized one of them: Alberto. As he came closer he also made out the other face. It was Enrico, a shady man who also lived here. He had been in prison several times for robbery and rumor had it that he also stabbed a man but the evidence wasn’t sufficient enough to make him visit prison again.</p><p>All in all, Fabrizio didn’t like the fact that they watched the tailor shop a bit too close without making any effort to walk away.</p><p>Moreover, it was slowly getting dark.</p><p>The doorbell rang and Ermal’s curly head popped around the corner.</p><p>“Ciao! Coming!”</p><p>“Take your time!”  Fabrizio answered.</p><p>As Ermal re-entered the showroom he held the new jacket in his arm.</p><p>“So, here it is.“ The older one wanted to grab the jacket but Ermal hesitated.</p><p>“Maybe it’s better if I…”</p><p>“You don’t trust me with the fabric?”</p><p>“I..” Ermal turned slightly red.</p><p>“Fine.“ He answered and took off his leather jacket.</p><p>Ready he stood in front of the tailor who didn’t move but quietly cleared his throat.</p><p>Fabrizio didn’t know what to do. Ermal pointed to Fabrizio’s rolled up sleeves.</p><p>“I cannot see if it fits you properly if you have THIS going on” he said derisively.</p><p>Like a boy who had been caught stealing gum Fabrizio shamefully put his sleeves down.</p><p>“Okay, so let’s see.” Ermal softly brushed over the fabric several times while Fabrizio had to turn like one of the little ballerina figures in a musical box.</p><p>“I think we have a suit, Fabrizio. Look at you!”</p><p>Ermal looked over Fabrizio’s shoulder into the mirror and observed the other man’s expression.</p><p>“I don’t know how you did it but you did it. It looks like new!”</p><p>Fabrizio was very happy with the result. The fabric was still a dark black, the length was perfect and it looked a bit like Ermal created a waist. Overjoyed he immediately hugged Ermal who slightly flinched at the contact.</p><p>“Sorry!” Immediately Fabrizio let go. “I didn’t...”</p><p>“No, no!” He answered with a thin smile. “Don’t apologize, please.”</p><p>Ermal straightened his jacket and cleared his throat while also stepping back from Fabrizio who had turned a bit red around his ears due to embarrassment.</p><p>He was made like that: When he lacked of words, he hugged people. It didn’t matter if he knew them two years or two minutes.</p><p>“Well, it’s great and you did a tremendous job!” Carefully he put off the jacket and handed it to the tailor.</p><p>“I will wrap it in this suit bag. It was made for jackets so no more creasing. You will be fine.”</p><p>“Can I leave it in there until summer? Because my sister’s wedding is in late August so…”</p><p>“Sure! My sister gets married, too.” He smiled at Fabrizio but then turned all serious again as if he caught himself giving too much private information.</p><p>“That’s great. A summer wedding?”</p><p>Ermal simply nodded and added a quick “That’s 40 €.”</p><p>“Are you sure it’s not more?”</p><p>He nodded again. Fabrizio raised an eyebrow, handed him 60€ and explained the rest would be for his sister’s wedding gift. “Buy her something nice. Sisters deserve the world.”</p><p>He slowly grabbed the bag still hoping maybe the curly tailor would say something or give him a sign to talk a bit more, to not have to leave the shop. But he stood there in silence, his glaze towards the floor.</p><p>“So, bye. And thank you again.”</p><p>“You’re welcome.” It was more a whisper.</p><p>The doorbell rang and Fabrizio was hit by cold fresh air. Like leaving a little comfy and warm world and stepping into cold icy reality.</p><p> </p><p>Reality that was called Enrico and his friend who were still hanging around.</p><p>And Fabrizio still didn’t like that. Enrico’s and his eyes met and he nodded. A nod that was reciprocated. If you grew up here you knew all the people who were about your age, it didn’t matter which way they later choose.</p><p>Before he turned around the corner he looked back and saw how Ermal closed the shop standing outside and the two men were about to head towards him.</p><p>With a last glimpse he saw something shiny and sharp.</p><p>A knife.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! HEY! Fuck, I said Hey!”</p><p>Fabrizio raised his voice as aggressively as possible to get the attention of the two criminals. Surprised Ermal looked to Fabrizio and then noticed Enrico and his friend.</p><p>He froze. He didn’t know what was going on.</p><p>But the huggy client from some minutes ago had turned into a raging aggressive man.</p><p>Dead on target Fabrizio reached the two man harshly and menacingly speaking to them.</p><p>“I know you two and I know you are up to no good. I don’t care what your plans are but HE”- he pointed at Ermal- “is off limits. Otherwise Signora Barletti and the whole neighbourhood will know about this and then the police are your smallest problem. Did you get that?”</p><p>No reaction.</p><p>He pushed Enrico.</p><p>“I said: Did. You. Get. That?”</p><p> They nodded.</p><p>“Now piss off before I forget myself.”</p><p>The two toddled off and let Fabrizio stay with a surprised and still frozen Ermal.</p><p>“Who … wh.. what just…?”</p><p>“That was Enrico. I assume he wanted the money?”</p><p>Fabrizio pointed to the little pocket Ermal was holding.</p><p>“But you don’t have to worry. He knows what will happen if he now, after having been warned, does you any harm. This neighbourhood doesn’t tolerate if you don’t respect the old people, the old-established stores.” His voice was still intense and raspy.</p><p>“Oh okay.” Ermal didn’t dare to move yet. Fabrizio cleared his throat.</p><p>“Ehm. I … I’d like to bring you home.”</p><p>Ermal didn’t react.</p><p>“Of course only if you want companionship.” He fast added in an almost shy whisper.</p><p>Ermal felt his muscles relaxing. The danger was gone and Fabrizio had prevented that he got robbed.</p><p>He had prevented.</p><p>That.</p><p>He got.</p><p>Robbed.</p><p>Slowly he exhaled.</p><p>“Hey, Ermal? You are all pale.”</p><p>Carefully Fabrizio touched Ermal’s shoulder and squeezed it.</p><p>“It’s over. They are gone. They won’t return. Do you hear me?”</p><p>His heart made crack as he saw a single tear running down Ermal’s face. He looked so fragile. He wanted to get hold on Fabrizio but his right hand was shaking so strongly that he held it embarrassed with his left.</p><p>“Shh. Hey.”</p><p>Fabrizio intuitively hugged a shaking Ermal who let go.</p><p>Finally.</p><p>One tear became a constant stream.</p><p>He didn’t say anything.</p><p>He didn’t sob.</p><p>He just stood there.</p><p>His client’s body emerged a heat that felt good. It felt safe. He just let him hold him.</p><p>After some seconds or even minutes the shaking stopped. Fabrizio eased his hug to step back but immediately Ermal pulled him into a hug, strongly wrapping his arms around the tattooed man.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>He loosened his arms and they put some distance between them.</p><p>“Let’s go. I think you need some rest.” Ermal nodded and looked to his right and left, uncertain where to go.</p><p>“I don’t have my car around so we need to walk or take the metro. Where do you live, Ermal?”</p><p>“Ehm. The metro.”</p><p>“You live in the metro?” Fabrizio giggled.</p><p>“What? No! No, I … we need to take the metro.”</p><p>Ermal looked confused but a still laughing Fabrizio elicited him a shy smile.</p><p>“Okay, the way to the metro I know by heart. Andiamo!”</p><p>They strolled through the streets of San Basilio. Silence sank over them. Fabrizio could hear Ermal thinking. Intuitively he started making some small talk. Street after street, traffic light after traffic light their conversation got more intense until they quite passionately discussed the last Radiohead album.</p><p>Fabrizio hadn’t thought that the skinny tailor was into music or well, that kind of music. His kind of music. He even knew this specific Icelandic newcomer band that had already made some decent albums.</p><p>“So how come you ended up with Signora Barletti?” Fabrizio asked.</p><p>Ermal fell silent and stared on the pebble road in front of him.</p><p>Maybe he crossed a line Fabrizio thought.</p><p>“I hope she at least treats you nicely?” He tried to change the course of their conversation.</p><p>Ermal nodded. “Oh yes! She is like a very severe second mother to me.”</p><p>“That sounds a lot like her. As I was a little boy, she was always very nice to me but however she scared the shit out of me when she gave orders to her employees.” Fabrizio chuckled remembering the small but very assertive tailor.</p><p>“So, are you from Rome?”</p><p>“No, from Bari. Not born but raised there.” Ermal answered. “I’m actually from Albania but we left as I was a little boy. Anyway, the way you treat this wonderful Italian language I guess you ARE from Rome.”</p><p>“Hey!” Fabrizio looked indignant. “Some say it’s the sexiest Italian accent to be!”</p><p>“Oh really? Who? I mean besides Romans?”</p><p>“People.”</p><p>“Name one!”</p><p>“A lot of my ex partners.”</p><p>“And you are sure it was not because you are all covered in tattoos and look like a hot bad boy.”</p><p>‘Filters, Ermal, filters’ he reminded himself while turning all red.</p><p>Fabrizio opened his mouth and touched with his tongue the corner of his mouth all amused. He recognized that this sentence had just escaped the man’s mouth without thinking it through.</p><p>Oh what a walk home this was going to be!</p>
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